Whatever It Takes

Memorial Day weekend 2011 was a blast, a rolling carnival of family, friends, food, and summery weather. I even got to leave the house after dark one night to play a game of trivia. My dad and I were a team and we came in second place, not too shabby.

HR continues to surprise and delight with his baby-type brand of awesomeness. For example, he hasn't seen my grandmother for over a month, but as soon as he saw her this time he started clapping because he remembered she taught him to play Patty Cake. How does that little brain work? Clearly he understands way more than I'm ready to imagine. He's still mighty tentative about walking, but I know he'll get there soon enough. And his vocabulary now includes a mangled screeching sound which I think means "meow" - he makes it when he sees a cat picture anyway. It's fairly adorable. I love to observe him when he's playing by himself, watching him move his toys around while making a little sputtering noise, oblivious to the world.

I know this is all pretty standard parental gushing, but he's my baby and I get to be smitten over and over.

On another tip, it's no secret that I've wanted to be a young adult author for as long as I can remember. I've been working on the same manuscript for years, and it's been languishing, unfinished, pretty much since I got pregnant. I was in a brief fever over it in the fall, as I tend to experience academic nostalgia that time of year, and I also got to read a finished draft of my cousin's novel which was very inspiring. Unfortunately I lacked the discipline to keep going for more than a couple of weeks. But now I'm back into it in a major way. I really want to finish this draft and just do something with it already. So I'm hoping I can keep on keep on keep on for real this time.

You know what helped me re-catch the fire? Having a husband who has gotten a taste of being a stay-at-home dad. He's constantly reminding me how great it will be when I'm published and successful and he won't even have to work nights and weekends anymore because I'll be supporting him with my big-time author income. "Do you think Judy Blume's husband is doing X right now?" he'll say, as he heads to his second shift or works into the night or heads out to shovel two feet of snow from the driveway. (Well Mr. Judy Blume probably is doing some kind of X, I believe he has a career of his own, but let's ignore that for discussion's sake).

Obviously I'm aware that 1) I'll be extremely lucky if I'm ever published at all and 2) even published authors don't make enough money to not have to supplement with other careers unless they do happen to be Rowling herself or Stephen King. But it's a joke and a dream Mike and I share, and I need the joke and the dream to keep this part of me going. And really, in my quest to emulate Judy Blume's career, why couldn't I turn out to be the next Judy Blume? Why not dream that big? I'll never know if I don't put in the work. Ah, the tricky part. I'll keep you posted.

Is it ironic that Frank Portman from MTX went on to become a young adult author, or a self-fulfilling prophecy?

I'll Be Looking at the Moon

First things first: So You Think You Can Dance starts tonight, and this is important for me to mention because 1) it is the one of my favorite things about life, and 2) I will be writing about it a lot. I'm very opinionated about all aspects of this show - how it's structured, the contestants, the judges, all that craziness. I can be extremely critical about all of it, as well as off-the-chain, unabashedly ebullient. And since my life partner does not share my obsession, I pour it all into my blog. I promise I'll warn you in advance when I'm going to go off about it because it's mighty boring to read about, I can imagine, if you do not also enjoy updates on who should be promoted to the Hot Tamale Express (that's a joke for fans of the show - I don't like to acknowledge the HTE as a thing). The first couple of weeks are only auditions, so this'll be a pretty safe space until the competition begins, but from then on all bets are off.

Still here? Really? As this will likely be my last post of the week, I'd like to take a moment to high-five the holiday upon us here in these United States. Memorial Day is one of my all-around favorites because there's no present giving but lots of grilling, we get a day off, it's the unofficial kick-off of the summer season and most importantly, it honors those who served in the military. It always makes me think of my Pup, who, you'll know if you've met me for a minute, is my hero. So I hope you all will enjoy.

Miss you forever, dear Pup.

Digital Manipulation

You know how there are songs you hear and then you wish you had never heard them because then you wouldn't feel so conflicted about liking them? But you do like them and it becomes your secret shame and you find yourself listening and maybe singing along to them in the car and never telling a living soul because if you don't admit it then it's not really true? But THEN you blab about it--and go as far to link them--on your blog in hopes that other people will come forward and you can form a shame alliance? Don't you hate when that happens? Yeah.

I don't actually believe in the notion of a "guilty pleasure" so much, because if you like something, you like it and you should stand by your preferences. Everyone else needs to back off. But then a song like "Look At Me Now" by Chris Brown and like ten other dudes comes out. I am a sucker for this song, with its inventiveness and really nasty flow. But CB is such a total shitbird I feel like a traitor to humanity for supporting him, even if it's just through my own private ears.



I suppose I can comfort myself with the notion that the vast majority of musicians are probably terrible human beings. I think that's what they call cold comfort, though.

On the less harmful tip, I am really enjoying "On the Floor" by Jennifer Lopez featuring Pit Bull. I don't want to like this because I am biased against J-Lo for no good reason. I mean, guess I get her as a dancer, but as an artist, there's not much there but machines. And she's responsible for the term J-Lo itself which just snowballed into a mountain of wrong. Still, it's just so goddamn danceable.



"Vegas to Af-REEK-a!" I like it.

I'll leave you now to pick up the pieces of my shattered image. But lest you go off with a really bad taste in your mouth:

Mushy Musing

When HR was first born, in the time that followed the explosion of manic joy that were his first few days, I had some pretty massive postpartum blues. I remember being so frustrated, and so sad, because here was this gorgeous guy, he was all I wanted for so long, and I couldn't properly enjoy being his mother because I couldn't stop crying. Luckily it went away before it became a real problem, but I'll never forget that feeling. I know it's normal for new mothers to feel that way, but I don't know if the way my thoughts came to me at the time were normal: a constant loop of sounds and phrases, a bit from a Beastie Boys song here, a movie line here, I heard them over and over again. Bizarre city. In retrospect, I'm pretty sure sleep deprivation was more to blame for that mess than the hormones. But one thing I couldn't stop hearing was Mike's voice, the way he spoke to the baby those first nights in the hospital. "You're such a good baby," he would say. "You're so cute, baby." Hushed and reverent.

I heard him saying this in my head constantly, and it made me weep with the power of how much he loved our baby already, even if he couldn't quite believe he was ours. I guess I'm thinking of this now because I'm going through another hormonal time (my body's finally back to its normal business) and over the weekend I was watching my husband dance with our baby in his arms and it knocked me right out, how lucky we both are, HR and me. It made me get misty in that familiar way, but this time I could put a name on it. Awe. Gratitude. Still a big big feeling, but it didn't swallow me up. I could just bask in it, you know? It's still scary and out of control, but that's the nature of love. I think what hit me is that it took a year but I had finally grown into the enormity of what my life had become since we got to be parents. Also: every child should have such a father, every mama should have such a partner. We're a lucky family. Yeah, that's about that.

I Like To Shock People With Glamour

This weekend was MUCH more like it. Lots of time out in the beautiful weather, plenty of quality Mama/Dada/baby time as well as time spent with local and visiting friends. Plus, beers al fresco and raspberry chocolate chip pancakes. It would have been a good note on which to go out, had THE RAP-CHA somehow come to pass. All the better of course that it didn't. I believe we've set the tone for the summer, even though it's back to stupid Smarch weather for the moment.

Today is significant to me because it marks 10 years since I started my first online blog. Then it was called a diary. It was anonymous, and then it got increasingly less so until I put it under lock and key and then it was time for it to be done in that incarnation. And I missed it enough to launch this guy here. The thing is, I can't overemphasize how many ways this whim of mine--this lark borne of a break from grad school when I had all this time on my hands and I felt my life needed an outlet, a little shake-up--changed me. I had no idea 1) that anyone would ever really read it; 2) that it would bring real people into my life at all, never mind that I would eventually meet so many of them and 3) that I would still be yammering about my life in a public forum all this time later. A lot has transpired over this decade, both personally and globally, and it's astounding for me to have such a record of it. So there you go.

Last night I watched Rufus! Rufus! Rufus! Does Judy! Judy! Judy!. If you are like me, I suggest you do the same. I love concert films, we've talked about my feelings for Rufus before, and I am a huge Judy Garland fan (I also have a soft spot for Liza, but it's not about her right now). The point is, I found out this DVD existed and BOOM, to the top of my Netflix queue. Had I known about the concert when it was live I probably would have found a way to get there. I'm going to link this number, not because it was my favorite from the show or even that it's a song of all songs I especially like, but it's crushing in a sweet way to see him perform with his beloved mama Kate McGarrigle who passed away not too long ago.



Work calls, but this is worth taking a moment or five.

All the World is Football Shaped

Last night I finally cashed in my first Mother's Day present, a massage gift certificate. I got the same thing this year - I'm sensing a tradition in the making. An excellent, Mama-pleasing tradition. Let me say that if I had the means I would get massages a lot. A lot lot. There's nothing like a really well-done massage and last night's fit my definition. A lot of deep work on my back, neck and shoulders (I like to get beat up a bit before I can relax into it, I'm a sick puppy) followed by attention to my favorite spots: sacrum, head and feet. A few years ago I was looking into training to be a massage therapist, and I still haven't abandoned the idea, but it's got to be a draining vocation. I think that to be a truly gifted masseuse you have to fall in love a little with each client, because that kind of touching is so reverent and intimate. No, not THAT kind of touch - not THAT kind of massage. Even if the after-effects of a really great massage often duplicate those of really great sex (dreamy smile, allover glow, totally messed up hair), the experience is of a different realm. I left that place with a year's worth of hunching and bending and baby hefting erased from my frame. It all came back the second I snapped HR out of his crib at 5:30 a.m., but I have another one looming in my future so how can I complain? I can't, and won't.

It's funny, I have no qualms about flinging my mostly nekkid body onto the table or having a total stranger touch me - that's the whole point, and his job besides. The thing that's challenging for me when getting a massage is to turn off my brain and not waste the hour thinking about things that aren't what's going on with my body. By the time I get the hang of it, it's already near the end and it bums me out. It shouldn't be so difficult for me to go blank, but it is. Again with the terrible problems of my life.

I haven't done an HR development update for awhile, so for fun:

-he's down to one nursing per day, and will be probably weaned in the next week or two.

-he's taken to not wanting to eat dinner, or at least any of the dinner foods he previously loved. If it's not a carb-based finger food (toast, pancakes, bananas, the occasional fruit like strawberries), he wants no part of it. I swore I'd never be this mother, but we've taken to pureeing veggies and cooking them into pancakes just so he'll get some nutrients.

-no walking yet, but I think we're close. He's gotten skittish for some reason.

-no 100% identifiable words yet, but he can point to a picture of something when you ask him to, and he says "daw" when he sees a dog. He's obsessed with dogs, so I imagine that will turn out to be his real first word.

-the kid can't get enough of books, and is now in the repetition phase where he wants the same one over and over again. I don't care how sick I get of a single book, and I don't even care that he seems to prefer crappy little throwaway books (and birthday cards and DVD cases) to books that measure up to my snobby esteem, I'm just so happy he likes books period. After all, I expect him to carry on the NERD UP! legacy.

And now for a little XTC to play us out.

Alienate Much?

I am usually motivated by a positive mindset, but some days you can't help but be fueled by bullets of rage. It's OK every once in awhile. Sometimes it's what it takes to set change in motion. And sometimes it's just what it is. There are just two things on my angry little mind, but here they are.

1) What is it about merging lanes that makes the average person turn into a full-tilt fuckwad? Wait your turn people, it's not that hard. ARG.

2) I've got a very special bullseye for you today, Catholic church. Let me first make clear that religion is very, very personal. What people believe is none of my business, just as my spiritual life is not up for grabs. Many people I love are practicing Catholics, and I've got no beef with the Catholic faith in general. But the institution really has to go. Really guys? Really?

If the latest--and clearly unbiased--study commissioned by the Bishops of the U.S. is to be believed, the abuse of thousands and thousands of innocent people and its subsequent cover-up is basically none of the church's fault. It was the tiiimes, man. I can't decide what part of it hurts my soul the most. Maybe having the nerve to harp on the definition of the word pedophile as to whether that's an accurate term? Like that's the real problem here, or even makes a difference? Unconscionable doesn't even begin to cover it.

I feel sorry for the truly faithful who are losing their beloved parishes due to the big C's slow fade-out, it's not their fault that the people in charge have a spectacularly messed up idea of what it means to lead a flock. But I also don't understand how people just accept it. It's not like the Vatican's abuse of power in any sense is a new thing. How many times to you have to be devalued and punched in the kidneys and fed a line of hate before you stop going back and handing over your money? Honestly, how has it survived for this long? My hunch is that the ice is mighty thin, and the Vatican's about to get a shockingly cold dunking courtesy of its fed-up masses. At the very least, they'll fail to hang on to the next generation.

In conclusion, the entire elitist, papal system can go eat a bag of diseased animal wangs and die. If there's a hell and I end up going there for saying that, I'm comforted by the thought that I'll see them all there. EYEBALL LASERBEAMS.

You know what would really help to channel this mindset? A good, hard run. I haven't run in so long. I think it's time to start again.

When I used to run a lot I had this song in my ipod and every time it came on it would get me so pumped it increased my productivity by 40%, at least. The beat is great for steady hill work. Also, that reminds me, if you haven't seen Rize just do it already.